


Maybe Tomorrow

by TheSightlessSniper



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, TW: suicidal thoughts, Unresolved, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSightlessSniper/pseuds/TheSightlessSniper
Summary: He owned one for sentimental reasons; he’d been intending for years to have it de-activated and put it into a display case. It was a relic; it had belonged to his father, and his grandfather, who had used it in the war. Most days it was kept empty. Safe.That day there was one shot loaded.





	Maybe Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for subject matter.

He’d sat there many times on the terrace, scotch in hand and staring out at the city skyline. Sometimes he’d had a laptop with him. Sometimes it was his phone, or a newspaper, or even a book.

That day it was a gun.

He owned one for sentimental reasons; he’d been intending for years to have it de-activated and put it into a display case. It was a relic; it had belonged to his father, and his grandfather, who had used it in the war. Most days it was kept empty. Safe.

That day there was one shot loaded.

He kept thinking about him. Mike. How many times he’d had tried to distance himself from the feeling of fondness he’d had for him since the start. He’d given in eventually to their friendship, but he was gone now. Mike was halfway around the world with his wife, seeing everything there was to see.

They still spoke often, but a line had been drawn between them that encompassed more than just distance. He was sure Mike was avoiding him now. 

He felt like it was his fault.

He’d loved him since the beginning, even if he was terrible at showing it. He put distance between them. He felt like he’d never appreciated him as much as he should have.

He never took that one step that could have kept them together forever.

The gun felt weightier. He finished the glass of scotch, and flicked the safety back on and put it to the side, tearing up into his palms at his own cowardice.

Maybe he’d have it in him to squeeze the trigger tomorrow.


End file.
